We Get a Redo
by Abby the Band Nerd
Summary: It's been ten years since Cathrine Andrews and Dale Stuckey were separated as children, and much has changed since. Cathrine became a cop, and Dale was arrested for crimes of violence, the one thing he helped Cat deal with as a child. Will remembering past tragedies help them become close again? (T for language)


**Author's Note: This is just a cute little one shot of my OC Cathrine Andrews, and Dale Stuckey (Law & Order: SVU). I have a whole story for Cathrine, and maybe when I finish Wagon Wheels (and the follow up to it) I'll post it. Umm, not much to say about this piece, other than it's pretty cute. Not my best, but pretty cute. Wagon Wheels is not discontinued, and there may be a chapter up by Monday night. Read, review, tell your friends about me, and until next time, adieu! **

_Insanity. He went into work every day two years ago, and his bright, childish smile endured day after day of harassment. Ryan would put heavy loads of simple paperwork on his desk; he didn't actually want Dale to work, because giving him an actual task would end up failing, like it had every time. I remember the kids at school used to call him "Sucky", seeing that Stuckey was his last name. It made me furious to see the way he was treated, because no matter how much of a klutz or a goof he presented himself as, he was the only one there for me when I needed it. At work, they called him "Dale Fuck-up", as Elliot told me. I wanted to slap him when he let me know he had started that nickname. All of a sudden, "Sucky" didn't seem too bad._

"Hey, thanks again for helpin' me move in. I needed out of that hotel… as much as I loved stale toast and one-week-past-its-expiration-date yogurt," joked Dale, chuckling after he'd spoken. I laughed as well; I found his sarcasm to be oddly funny.

"It's my pleasure to be of assistance, Stuckey. I hope you don't mind, really, I just never grew out of calling you that," I spoke, and he smiled.

"Doesn't bother me a bit, Cat. As a matter of fact, I kind of missed hearing you call me that. It's better than Sucky or… the other one, bing bang…" he started to say the catch phrase he'd used around the precinct a few years back, and stopped himself, realizing I might get irritated. "Sorry, I really need to stop with that one," he apologized, laughing nervously. He narrowed his eyes, trying not to look into mine. He'd never outgrown that habit, either.

_It was painfully obvious that Dale had a crush on me, from the first time we'd met as pudgy, clueless second graders, up until the last time I'd seen him before he'd been put into prison; as an awkward, pubescent eighth grader. When we sat together on the bus, he'd occasionally inch closer to me, hoping I didn't notice. I let him get away with it, because I knew that in some way or another, I enjoyed the affection. Whenever I'd tell him about crushes I had, he wouldn't look at me for the rest of the conversation. Other than the occasional flicker of his blue eyes, I didn't get eye contact. He'd rather have looked at the floor. On the first day of eighth grade, we'd shared an awkward kiss. First kisses were supposed to be that awkward, I'd figured, and I didn't think much about it. Dale seemed to think about it all of the time._

"So uh… you should probably be headed back to Liv's apartment? I feel like Elliot will get pissed off if you're out late, 'specially with me," he suggested, and I shook my head, and red strands of hair fell over my face. I tucked them back with my right hand and laughed quietly.

"Elliot," I spoke, taking off my jacket and setting it on the back of the couch, then sitting down myself, "does not dictate my life. I'm a grown woman, not a child. Even if I were a child…" I grabbed my bottle of water, taking a quick sip, "he isn't my father." Dale smiled, and looked directly at me.

"Yeah, your father _definitely_ wouldn't be a cop. I'm glad they put the abusive fuck in jail, he deserves to rot," Dale spoke, leaning on the wall. I moved over on the couch, patting the cushion next to my own.

"You want to sit down? Standing isn't that comfortable," I invited, and after a brief hesitation, Dale sat down next to me. He still looked like he did in middle school, with his spiked blonde hair and his childish smile. He'd always possessed some childish qualities, but almost ten years later, I found him to be surprisingly attractive.

_He had always said that everyone hated him, but it didn't matter as long as I didn't hate him too. I had always found that to be sweet, and incredibly adoring of him. I assured him that as long as I lived, I would never hate him, no matter what he did. When I moved away, I cried. Not because of change, but because I didn't want to lose Dale. Having someone that was always around to listen to you cry, and to tell you that you'd be okay, was going to be a tough loss. It would have been a lie to say that I didn't love him, even after seeing him in prison for crimes of violence, including one against my partner._

After a few minutes of silence, I decided I had to say something. "I missed you, you know," I spoke, and Dale turned to face me. The memory of my mother driving me away from my home, driving me away from Dale, brought tears to my eyes. I refused to let them fall. "I cried for a week, when we left. You were the only one there for me, and I didn't have you anymore. I couldn't cope," I confessed, and Dale put his arm around my shoulder and brought me up against him. I pulled my arms around his waist, laying my head against his chest and letting myself cry, which I seldom did around anybody. He stroked my hair ever so gently, and I just wanted to break down and tell him everything. I thought better of it, and realized it would be too much to straighten out in a night.

"Don't cry. You never cry, you're Cathrine Andrews, the girl who endured years and years of the worst father imaginable, and didn't shed a tear in front of anyone, for the longest time. You were tougher than nails! Hell, you hit the band teacher with your saxophone because he said that all fathers were perfect," he recalled, and I stopped my crying and started to laugh.

"You remember that!? Oh God, that was awful… I got suspended for a week, and thrown out of the varsity band!" I spoke, laughing hysterically at the memory. I realized that I was still clutching onto Dale, but didn't care to correct myself. All of the feelings that I'd built up for him as a child came surging back in an instant. I hadn't ever stopped loving him; it had just been thrown aside, to hide somewhere in my subconscious. "Do you remember eighth grade? The first day, when I broke down after class?" I asked, and Dale blushed. It was obvious he'd never forgotten about it.

_It was still summer, and everyone was outside, waiting for their friends to come out and socialize with them. Dale and I were behind the school, hiding between an old shed and the brick wall that fenced off the dumpsters. We had put a cylindrical trash can in the entry way, in hope that nobody would find us. I was crying on the inside, but wouldn't dream of showing it. He asked me what had happened, and I told him. Kyle had hit my mother again, this time across the face with an old pan. She was bleeding from the mouth and nose, unconscious across the kitchen floor. I had reached for the phone, to dial the police, but Kyle grabbed my wrist and bent it back, painfully far. He smashed the phone into the side of my head with his free hand, twice. I felt like my skull had cracked, and as if every vein in my nose had burst, seeing that it had been gushing blood like my mother's. He released my wrist and sent me down to the floor on my rear. I went to my room, and cried into my pillow. Dale didn't have to know that last detail. He pulled me into a hug, and I held him as well. I needed his company. He looked me in the eye, and then leaned in to kiss me, if you could even call it a kiss. His lips nearly missed mine; they landed more towards the bottom left corner of my mouth, and it was over in seconds. I decided to try not to bring it up again._

"You mean that awkward kiss? Yeah, I remember it," he answered, and I smiled. "I wouldn't mind trying it again, nine or ten years later," he muttered, his face turning red with embarrassment as he spoke his mind. I placed a hand on the side of his face, and leaned up so our noses were touching. This was going to be awkward, and I knew it. I'd recently bailed him out of prison, and my partners both despised everything about him. I wasn't going to allow myself to be constrained by what they believed.

The first time, it was hardly a kiss. His lips brushed against mine in the same sort of manner one may brush up on another while walking through a high school hallway. This was repeated two or three times, until our mouths found themselves locked together for a few seconds. I laced my arms around his neck, feeling the first real happiness I'd felt in a while. Each kiss grew more heated, and with the growing intensity, something became very apparent. Dale was incredibly nervous. His hands trembled against my waist, and when I managed to undo the first button on his shirt, he stopped kissing me all together. It was clear that Dale had never been with a woman, and probably felt terror at the first sign of a sexual encounter due to his vulnerability in prison.

"I'm so sorry, Dale. I got carried away," I apologized, and he shook his head.

"Don't be sorry. It's just… I don't know, I guess I'm just nervous and well… you're successful, beautiful, and I've loved you since I was seven, and that's kind of a scary thing," he spoke, and I smiled and kissed him gently. Dale had always had an innocent demeanor about him, and even as an adult, it showed.

"I love you too, Stuckey. I also realize that I got completely carried away, even for myself. How about I just go home for the night, and we'll talk tomorrow?" I asked, and started to reach for my coat. Dale grabbed my hand before I could raise it much higher than it was originally.

"I think you should sleep here, but if not, that's cool. I just think it'd be nice to have you here for a while," he suggested, and I smiled, bringing my hand back down, and lying down next to Dale on the couch.

"I think that can be arranged, Stuckey. Goodnight," I spoke, and shut my eyes to get to sleep.

"Goodnight Kitty, and uh…" he trailed off, trying to change the words that would follow. I let out a sigh, a smile rising to my lips.

"Go ahead, say it," I spoke, chuckling softly and shaking my head.

"Bing bang bong," he finished, and I smiled and went off to sleep.


End file.
